Perfect Aim
by Raven Jesterfield
Summary: Winifred Samuels's school trip to London gets ruined when her plane crashes. It gets worse when she gets abducted by the pirate-turned-buisnessman, Reaver. Soon, she learns of his secrets and gets pulled into even more trouble.
1. Chapter 1

Perfect Aim

**Author's Note: Seeing how you all seem to like my Aladdin fanfic (don't worry, I'm still working on that, too), I decided to write up another story with a hot villain in it. Hope you like and review it! I do not own Fable I, II, and III. And sadly, I do not own Reaver. Lionhead Studios do. I only own Winnie.**

~One

Mrs. Gringer announced to all her entire class of art students the safety procedures of the big trip. "Now class, it is always important to establish a 'buddy system'." I know how much you're all excited to explore the wondrous places of London, but you must have someone accompany you at all times."

_Snore, _Winnie thought as she lazily gazed at the clock above the terminal. 1:13, it said. The plane is to leave at 1:15. She was beginning to feel so much irritation. She had saved a lot of her money from her work as a part-time waitress at Chili's for this trip sponsored by her art school. All she wanted to do was go over to London's museums, draw up some possible inspirations to be found there, and get her money's worth.

"Oh, Winnie! This is so exciting!" Samantha, some dumb classmate Winnie knew, whispered enthusiastically. "We're finally going to Michelangelo's original works!" Not making eye contact with Samantha, Winnie commented, "He's in Italy, dumbass. You want Italian authenticity, then go to Venice." Samantha kept quiet after that. A buzz from Winnie's back pocket washed away the temporary peace. She got out her iPhone and read the new text message:

**Mom: Honey? Are you leaving for your trip? Please call me.**

"Winifred!" Mrs. Gringer called out to her, making Winnie cringe. She hated her original name. Winifred. Boring and bland with a side of bleh. "I'm assuming you already know the rules and regulations of this artistic expedition?" Winnie sighed and started to put up her phone, though the teacher stopped her by motioning to hand it over. Grudgingly, the phone was handed over. "You may have this device back after the flight." Then she had the students board the flight. Winnie groaned, as she lifted her duffel bag up and went with them. Another problem caused by her stupid, cheap mother. The best she had ever done for her was give her hand-me-downs and a used sixties Chevrolet. The worst she had ever done was not help her pay for the trip to London, even though she knew her mother was rich with the help of her 'gas company cash hog' she called a boyfriend of ten years (which begs the question, when are they going to get hitched?). He owned a gas company not far from the airport.

All the students sat down at their seats. Unfortunately, Winnie was assigned a seat next to the killjoy known as Samantha's big mouth. As she went on and on about her current social life with her clique sorority friends, Winnie tuned her out completely and looked out the window until she fell asleep with the strange, subtle scent of gas in her nose.

* * *

Winnie awoke face down on the grassy ground and looked around her in terror. She felt aching pain all over her body and discovered why. Somehow, Winnie had survived a plane crash! In a forest of large _trees_, no less. She sat there in horror as she watched the plane and the forest being engulfed with smoke and began to wonder. Where were the other passengers? They must have gotten out to get help.

Paying no mind to how she survived, she knew she had to go get help, as well. She began to stand up and limped over to the nearest building visible to her on the horizon. It was not an appealing sight with the smokestacks and the dirty windows. The sounds of clanking and shouting of what seemed to be the workers of the place didn't help its image, either. But it would have to do in terms of shelter. _And a cigarette would be nice. _She thought as she chuckled. _I've never needed one so bad in my life._


	2. Chapter 2

Perfect Aim

**Author's Note: Before we go any further with this story, I should warn you that explicit language and sensual scenes will be present throughout the story. But let's face it, that's what you're here for if your reading about Reaver, eh? *wink, wink***

Two

After about fifteen minutes of continuing toward the factory named Reaver Armory, Winnie's numbing shock of the accident began to fade away. She began to wonder how she managed to get out of the giant wreck with nothing but bruises and scratches as her converse shoes crunched on leaf and sticks with every step she took. She saw a lake and decided to inspect herself with her reflection. Her smooth and naturally Australian tan skin from her biological father's side was full of blood stains and damaging marks. Her blue eyes looked weary from walking and her short brown hair was scattered in different places. She looked up at the gray sky to the sound of thunder. "Oh, great," she murmured. It was going to rain soon. Winnie quickened her pace to the large, dingy building that was her only means of salvation.

Then, Winnie heard strange moans in the forest, breaking her concentration. She headed toward the strange sounds and saw some haggard men standing in a row, each with a look of misery on his face. She tried to approach them more without getting noticed by peering behind a tree nearby. Tracing to what the men were gazing at, she noticed what appeared to be a bunch of armed guards with each of them holding a rifle to the frightened men.

_What the hell? _She almost jumped out of her skin when she heard multiple shots simultaneously piercing at the victims. Winnie stayed hidden and tried to conceal a scream building up inside. The urge slipped away and turned to curiosity when she heard an eloquent, British voice congratulating the guards.

"Excellent, gentlemen. Maybe now, no one will dare go against the increased working hours." Intrigued, Winnie looked from behind the tree and to her hormonic amazement, saw a tall man who appeared to be in his early thirties with deeply, dark brown hair and which was the same color as his eyes. He was wearing a charcoal colored business suit, black shoes and gloves, and carried a sleek, black cane which held his confident stance. The heart-shaped birth mark under his right eye made him look even more exotic.

"Dispose of the bodies, immediately," he demanded the guards.

_Oh god, I need to get the police. This guy is psycho! _While the men were distracted with their dirty work, Winnie began to sneak past them. _Maybe that factory has a phone I can use to call 911._

But her hopes were dashed when she heard the cock of a gun. "And where do you think _you're_ going?" Winnie turned and gasped when she saw the man aiming his gun to her. _Shit._

"I won't tell anyone! Just don't friggin' kill me!" she panicked.

The man answered with a sly smile, "I'm afraid I have a hard time believing you, so I can't possibly let you go." He lowered his gun and sauntered forward as he examined her up and down. Winnie became self conscious as he clearly noticed her size C-cups concealed under her flimsy green tank top. "But if you do as I say, I gladly won't have to kill you. I wouldn't want to waste a pretty little thing such as you."

He grabbed her wrist and began to drag her with two guards following them and they headed to the factory. Winnie was shaking so hard from the thought of being captured by a mobster that the thought of being out in the soon-to-be storm alone seemed more appealing.

* * *

Later that night, they were driven by a chaperone to his mansion which was a few miles from the factory and on the rural outskirts of London. Winnie sat frozen in the red, velvety chair of the mysterious man's office across from him sitting behind his desk of light oak. She didn't look directly at him but she felt his eyes staring straight at her chest.

"Quit staring and wipe the drool off your face," she said shortly. She feared him greatly, but her chest is where she drew the line. She felt stupid for saying so, but also felt better knowing that he hadn't got the best of her. Not yet, anyways.

The man chuckled at the comment and sat up. "So, why don't you tell me your name? I bet it's as adorable as your witty nature."

Winnie looked up annoyed. "Why don't you tell me _yours_? I've seen you murder those men and you've held me here against my will. And seeing how nobody's going to notice that I'm gone for a while, I'd like to know who I'm going to be staying with and where the hell I am."

The man gave a tsk, tsk and introduced himself. "My name is Reaver. You are in my company that is currently filling out orders for war weaponry and armor throughout the world. Now if you don't mind my asking again, what is your name, my dear?"

She kept silent and Reaver got up and went over to her. Winnie saw a gleam of light reflecting from the gun still in his holster and gripped tightly to the sides of her chair, preparing for the worst. She felt his presence behind her as his hand stroke her hair. "Normally I don't quite get the short look for women, but seeing how the pixie look shows your sweet and tiny neck, I can see how you can pull it off."

He held his gun to the side of head and took a hold of the back of her neck with his free hand. "Now I'll ask you one last time. What is your name, my pet?"

"Winifred Samuels," she blurted out. "But I like to be called Winnie."

He lowered his gun and stepped in front of her with his arms crossed. A smirk played on his face which made Winnie mad and turned-on at the same time.

"Well, Miss Samuels, you are going to stay here with me, as you said, against your will. I have spared your life, hereto forth, I am in full possession of it. You will do what I say, when I call you. Should you fail to do so," he continued as he raised the gun to her eye level. "…you will be joining those miserable workers in the afterlife. Is that clear?" Winnie could do nothing but nod hastily.

Satisfied with the answer, Reaver offered his arm to her, and she hesitantly rose to take it. They walked out of the office and into the main hall which was decorated with sickening self-portraits of himself and bustling maids and butlers tidying the place up.

They then entered a grand bedroom and Winnie gazed around at the luxurious furniture that had a mostly black and red color scheme except for the golden lamps and the bear skin rug.

Reaver left Winnie to explore the room as he went over to the dresser and searched through a drawer filled with nightgowns. He picked out one of a sheer silver color and handed it to her. "Wear this and get some sleep. You'll be needing it for tomorrow."

Winnie stood there for a moment. "Um, I need to change. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," he responded gleefully while still standing in front of her. Seeing how he was clearly not going to leave, she groaned and moved away from him to the other side of the room facing away from him.

Reaver watched as she took off her top and her jeans. Her body filled him with excitement as he predicted it would. Her perky breasts under her bra were almost as large as her rounded bottom. As she slipped on the nightgown, Reaver went up to her from behind and grabbed her waist, causing her to stiffen. He gingerly kissed the soft nape of her neck, which was his favorite part of her body.

"Good night, my pixie," he whispered in her ear and he began to leave the room. "I have work to do tonight, but I will be back, so don't you worry," he said patronizingly. Winnie said coldly, "I'm not in the _least bit_ worried." Reaver looked over his shoulder and said, "Maybe you should be." He winked and closed the door behind him. Her insides twisted in fear as she heard the click of her door being locked from the outside. And this room didn't even have windows.

"Fuck," she whispered under her breath.

Realizing how tired she was she headed for the huge bed and lied down. She fell asleep peacefully with the thought of the pervert not being around her.

**Author's Note: Anyone care to review?**


	3. Chapter 3

Perfect Aim

~Three

**Author's Note: At first, Theresa blabs on and on about Winnie's destiny. But trust me, this chapter gets better. **

"Whoa."

Winnie looked around the emptiness that is her dream and has been filled with a blinding light. Her body felt like it was being submerged underwater, only she wasn't drowning.

"Hello?" She called out in the void. "Is anyone there?"

A voice responded to Winnie. "Greetings, Hero." Winnie saw an old woman in a red cloak. She appeared to be a gypsy like the one's she saw in her world history textbook.

The woman continued, "My name is Theresa. I am a Seer and a prophet. My purpose is to tell you of your destiny and why you are with Reaver."

Winnie stood there befuddled, but she knew that if she wanted answers, now was the time to ask for them. "Yeah, you better give me a pretty good reason. The guy is…"

"…a total creep, yes. I would know. He and I have known each other for the past few centuries." Winnie gasped. "Centuries?"

"Yes. Reaver gains immortality in exchange for another person's youth to appease the Shadow Court." Theresa answered.

Winnie was still skeptical. "Shadow Court? What's that? And you really expect me to believe all this? I mean, immortality. Come on."

"Believe whatever you wish to believe. But there will be a time when you and Reaver will need each other to defeat the returning Crawler. The Crawler is a spirit filled with darkness and evil. And you are the only one, besides Reaver, whom I have found to have hero blood."

"What's hero blood? What do I use it for?"

"Hero blood gives you the extreme ability of melee, aim, and will. You will gain the power of will, which is the power of magic." Theresa took out a spiraling gray orb out of her cloak and placed it in Winnie's palm. "Your first magical ability is vortex. You will be able to conjure powerful winds to fend off your enemies." Then she had Winnie shove the orb in her chest. A strong, flowing sensation filled her entire body and everything went dark as she heard Theresa say, "Your adventure begins."

* * *

Winnie woke up and stretched her arms out, remembering the dream with the strange seer woman and the rushing feeling in her body. "That was trippy," she thought aloud.

"What was, my little pixie?"

Winnie screamed and shot out of the bed to find Reaver on it, half naked. His hand was on his head, propping him up with his elbow. "What the hell are _you_ doing in here?" she screamed. Reaver chuckled. "This is my bedroom, darling. And there's no need to shout. I simply want to wish you a good morning."

Winnie glared at him fiercely. God, she hated the man. "Why didn't you tell me this was your room? I could've slept somewhere else."

"Which is exactly what I wouldn't have wanted." Reaver said as he began to get up and get dressed in his business attire. "Besides, I told you I would be back in here. I assumed you knew that we were sharing a bed."

"Well, I didn't. Now where are my clothes?" she asked. Without answering, Reaver went over to the dresser and pulled out a dark blue dress with long black lace sleeves and black lace lining the bottom hem. He got out a pair of black heels with his other hand. "Here they are." He handed them over to her. Winnie sighed. "These aren't mine and you know it."

Reaver smirked. "They are now. Get dressed and meet me downstairs for breakfast. I want to take you with me to the factory. We have much to discuss." He grabbed his cane and headed out the door.

"Wait," Winnie called out. Reaver stopped at the door frame. "Yes?" he asked.

"You didn't try anything with me while I was asleep, did you?"

Reaver turned around and smiled. "Darling, you would feel it if I did anything to you. But don't distress. We'll have our little fun, soon. Tatty-bye." And with that, he closed the door.

Relieved that he was gone, Winnie put on the given outfit and evaluated herself in the mirror. _Huh, _she thought. _At least he's got good taste in clothes. _Then she frowned._ He's still a weirdo._

**Author's Note: Wow, odd way to wake up, huh? Though I can't say it'd be a bad thing. Tee hee! Review, anyone?**


	4. Chapter 4

Perfect Aim

~Four

Outside the passenger window of Reaver's black Lexus, there was rain still pouring down from last night. The lightening was still crashing into the ground and the thunder still followed it with a boom. Winnie leaned against the window while hearing the peaceful humming of the engine, hoping that Reaver wouldn't break the silence with his gabbing. Unfortunately, she wasn't so lucky.

"So, tell me. What were you doing in the middle of a forest with wounds all over you?" Reaver asked. Winnie sighed and picked her head and stared at the front window. She droned, "I was heading over to London for a trip with my classmates. My plane crashed in a forest and somehow I managed to survive."

"Ah, still in school, are we? What are you studying?"

"Art and art history. I study in the Maryland Institute College of Art."

"I see. Tell me more about yourself."

Even more annoyed by his constant questions, Winnie answered with a sigh. "I'm 22, I'm a vegan, and I hate people. Happy?" Reaver eyed her and asked, "You wouldn't happen to be a virgin, are you?" Winnie widened her eyes. "That's none of your goddamn business!" Reaver sighed. "Well, that's a shame you think that," he said as he stroked his holstered gun with free hand.

Winnie answered quickly. "Okay! No, I'm not. I lost it to my bastard of an ex, Randy." She looked at him. "You know, you kind of remind of him with your ever so dazzling charm, your love for the finer things, and my off-the-chart hatred for you," she said sarcastically. She finished with a smile. "Probably why I broke up with him."

Reaver replied, "And you remind me of Tina, the last girl I was with, with her beauty, her sense of humor, and her big mouth. Probably why I killed her." Winnie kept quiet for the rest of the ride after that.

* * *

"Well, this is it," Reaver said as he opened the door for her. He offered his arm to Winnie. _Ugh, I'd like to break it off, _she thought, but took it anyway. They walked together inside the large building. She was scared when she saw what was inside.

Hundreds of tired and dirty workers were operating heavy machinery. Even small children were oiling the metal. The floors were dirty with dust, footprints, and…blood? Her heart froze as she swore she saw a blood stain on the floor. The sounds of yells of orders and whirls of motors made their way to Winnie's small ears. She place one hand on her ear and her other ear rested on Reaver's shoulder, her other arm being occupied. She kept her eyes closed from the horrifying place as she felt herself being led up the stairs. Then, there was an immediate silence. When she realized was in another room she opened her eyes and saw she was in an office. Reaver peered down at her with a smug look on his face. "I take it you've grown attached to me." Winnie pulled away from him at the comment.

"Okay, you brought me here. Now what do you want me to do?" Winnie asked.

"Just sit over there until I'm done working." He pointed to a chair in a corner. There was a nightstand beside it with a lamp on top. "Fine." Winnie walked over to the chair and sat herself down. After ten minutes, she got bored and looked around the office to find a way to kill time. She noticed a drawer in the nightstand and opened it. There was a notebook. She took it out and flipped through the pages. All were blank. _Perfect! _She thought. There wasn't a pencil in the drawer though so she went up to Reaver's desk. "Hey, do you have a pencil I can use?" she asked. He looked at her for a moment when an idea came to his mind.

"Sure, I'll give you one. But you have to do something for me first." Reaver said. Winnie was hesitant to ask, "What do you want?" Reaver got up from his chair and stood in front of her. "I want you to kiss me. Just to see how you taste." Winnie felt her blood boil. "Really? You're going to make me give you the satisfaction of me coming onto you for a pencil?" Reaver shrugged. "If it's not that important to you than you can just sit back over there and do nothing for the next eight hours."

"Eight hours?" Winnie cried.

"Yes, eight hours," he confirmed.

Winnie groaned and gave in. "Fine, go ahead." Reaver chuckled. "Sweet pixie. _You're_ suppose to kiss _me_."

"Oh, hell." Winnie pecked him on the lips and stood back from him quickly.

Reaver sighed. "You say you have experience, yet you clearly can't give affection." He walked up to her. "I'll just have to teach you." Winnie glared at him. "You wouldn't dare." With that, Reaver pulled her into his arms and crashed his lips into hers. When Winnie started struggling, he grabbed the back of her head so that she wouldn't turn away. Soon, she went along with the session and loosened up to his embrace. As soon as Reaver broke it off, she pushed him away. "You stupid son of a –" Before she could finish Reaver held up a pencil from his pocket. She quickly snatched it from him and walked back to her chair.

Reaver shook his head at her. "Tsk tsk, you're quite the rude one. Luckily for you, you're also pleasing to the touch." He sat down behind his desk and went back to work.

Winnie ignored him and opened the book to the first page. After a while of wondering what to draw, inspiration hit her. She began to draw the face of one of the men she saw in the forest. He had such a pitiful look of imminent death in his eye before he got shot that it would be fascinating to draw. She began to draw her melancholy on the page.


	5. Chapter 5

Perfect Aim

**Author's Note: I just want to thank Flamboyant Cuttlefish for the awesome message she sent me about my story! You and your story rock! **

~Five

It's been five hours and Winnie was almost finished with her drawing. Though, she kept getting slightly distracted by her feeling Reaver's eyes on her. He would look up from whatever he was doing and peer at her for a few seconds and then look down at his work.

Regardless, Winnie finally finished by blowing away any pencil dust from the paper. She held it in front of her and was admiring her art to where she didn't here Reaver cross the room. He placed a hand on the chair's frame and leaned on it to get a look. Winnie jumped when he spoke to her.

"You've captured the fear in his eyes well. However, he seemed way more homely than what you drew him out to be," he felt compelled to comment.

Winnie didn't look at him. "Well, I think I did a good job."

"Yes, but you're gawking at the picture as if he were your own beau. And with your beauty, I'd say you are way out of his league."

Winnie pouted. "I'm not _gawking_, Reaver. Besides, that's what art is. You can pick anything out from this world and make it into something beautiful."

Reaver crossed his arms. "I highly doubt that." Winnie looked up and crossed her arms, too, with a playful grin on her face. "Is that a challenge?" she asked coyly.

Reaver raised an eyebrow. "Seems to be." Winnie set the notebook down. "Alright, then. You give me a subject and I'll name the painting while you look it up on your laptop over there." She instructed as she pointed to the computer on his desk. Reaver turned to her. "Oh, so now it's a game," he observed.

"Yep," Winnie answered.

Reaver went over to his desk. "Why don't we add some fun to it? For every subject I give you and you can't manage to find anything that portrays it 'beautiful', as you say…" Reaver paused for a moment in thought. "…you have to take off a piece of clothing for me." Winnie glared at him. "Sicko." Reaver merely chuckled at the offense. Winnie continued. "Then, for every piece of art I _do_ find that portrays an object beautiful, you have to stay out of your room every night, so that I may sleep in it alone." Winnie needed the space and the privacy to train her newly found magical ability. Vortex, was it? She needed a way to escape from the pervert and if sending the whole mansion to the sky with him in it was the answer, then so be it.

Reaver frowned. "And what makes you think that I won't just come in, anyway?" Winnie went up to him. "Because even though you're a lunatic, I know you can be a man of your word."

Reaver thought about it for a moment. Then he held his hand out to her. "Deal. But I have no doubt that this game will be short." Winnie took it and they shook on it. "You're goddamn right it will be."

They both headed for the laptop. Reaver pulled out his desk chair for Winnie to sit upon. She complied and began going online to Google. Winnie felt shivers when Reaver placed his hands on her shoulders. "First subject," he starts off. "Hmm…something that can't be made beautiful…" He looked around the room when inspiration hit him. "Type in 'file cabinet'."

Winnie typed up the words 'file cabinet' and searched through the images section. One image caught her eye and she clicked on an image of a black wooden file cabinet with drawings of horses on a field. It looked ornate with its top gold border and two white stripes running down the front frame. The glossy finish made it shine even more.

"That doesn't count. It's not a _painting_ of a file cabinet," said Reaver.

Winnie scoffed. "Art doesn't have to be _of_ something. A masterpiece can _be _something, also. This cabinet is art _itself._" Winnie smiled. "Looks like a win a night alone," she sing-songed.

Reaver groaned. "Very well. Type in 'trash'. Nothing can possibly be beautiful about that."

She typed the words in eagerly. She searched through the images again and found an old English picture of a pale woman with a trash bin photoshopped to her wearing it as a hat. "Clearly, satirical art used to complement her face," Winnie explained happily. "I'm so good at this. Another one." Winnie could feel Reaver grip on to her shoulders even tighter with irritation. She tried her best not to laugh.

There was silence for a moment. She could hear him chuckle. _Oh, God…_ she thought.

"Type in 'dog feces'," he demanded.

Winnie felt her blood go cold. She wouldn't dare look that up. She wished he'd have said 'dog porn' or 'dogs in costumes', but animal leavings were where she'd draw the line.

"What's wrong?" he asked playing innocent. "Surely, a girl with a keen sense of beauty should find _something_ for 'dog feces'." Winnie sighed in defeat.

"No?" he asked. "Well then, off this goes." And he lifted the dress up, removing it from her being with her yelping in the process. He disposed of it on the floor. Then he brought her up to a standing position and got a good look at her, ignoring her frightened expression. He breathed deeply as he once again traced his eyes slowly down her body. He pulled her to himself and started kissing her. "Reaver…get…off…me…" she said in between kisses. Reaver looked into her eyes and smirked. "Oh, I'm not _on_ you just yet." He began to clear his desk off with his arm still wrapped around her waist. "This wasn't part of the deal! And you don't even know me!" she cried. Reaver stopped for a moment. He lifted her face to his and gave her a harsh stare. "I know for a fact that you are my prisoner and that I can do what I want with you. Don't worry, I've used this desk before for such purposes and I'm sure you're bound to enjoy it."

Just then, they both heard a knock at the door. Reaver cursed under his breath. "Get dressed," he murmured to her harshly as he headed toward the door. Relieved, she quickly put on the dress and ran back to her chair before the door opened to reveal a police officer. "Officer Quint. I'm here on a report of seven men that had gone missing yesterday. They all work in your place of business. Mind if I ask you a few questions?"

_Oh, God. I'm saved! I'm out of here!_

"Of course, my good man. Just give me a moment to arrange my desk. I didn't know I'd have a guest over in my office and well…it's gotten to be untidy."

The officer shrugged and Reaver closed the door. Winnie's hopes were soon dashed when her captor went up to her and whispered in her ear, "Say anything and I'll kill you both. I've killed men of authority before and my workers know better than to report two deaths against me. I can have them clean up the mess if I want to. Understand?"

Winnie sighed. "Whatever," she mumbled without looking at him.

**Author's Note: So what do you think? Reviews are very much welcomed! **


	6. Chapter 6

Perfect Aim

~Six

Reaver let Officer Quint inside. He was an aging man with a beer belly. Kind of like Winnie's bastard step father. She looked away in disgust.

"Just have a seat in front of my desk." Reaver said. They cop sat down, his eyes wandering indifferently around the office. Reaver sat down at his chair and rested his head on the knuckles of his hands. "So what is it you wish to ask me, kind sir?"

"Well, as I said, men who worked here yesterday never came back to their homes. Families are worried sick for them." Quint droned. He clearly didn't give a damn about his case.

"Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry to hear that. My workers tend to sneak out of work to have a smoke or some whiskey they'd sneak in. They must've gotten killed by some wild animal lurking in the woods. You know how hungry they must be out there."

Quint shrugged. "Wouldn't know it. Not much of a tree hugger." He wrote the conservation down on his little pad of paper and got up to leave. As he headed for the door, he did a double take on the brunette girl who had been sitting in the chair with her arms crossed, apparently annoyed. The cop smiled. "And what's your name, honey?" Reaver narrowed his eyes at the man. He wanted to shoot him for flirting with his lovely captive, but he didn't feel like spilling any blood, today.

Winnie glared up at him. "Nunya," she replied.

Both the officer and Reaver were confused. The latter stayed silent, wondering what Winnie was up to.

"Odd name." the officer smirked.

"Yeah," Winnie said coldly. "Full name's Nunya Damn Buisness. I'm not interested, _honey_."

Quint glared at her. He nodded in her direction. "Have a good one." Finally, he left the room.

Winnie turned to Reaver when she heard him laughing out loud. "I must say, my dear. Your humor never ceases to bore me."

"Well, I tend to get cranky, especially around 'tards like him and you." Reaver sighed. He went back to work, still having a hard-on from her angered spirit.

* * *

"Why so silent, love?" Reaver asked while playing innocent. They were on their way back to the manor. Winnie stayed silent, anger boiling up in her. She did _not_ want to talk to him.

"Are you still mad at me for earlier? I thought that with the stress you were feeling, you'd want a little release on my desk." Reaver said with a smirk.

"I didn't, okay?" Winnie snapped. "I can't believe you would be such a pig as to try and get me laid on the first day of me having to live with you." Silence fell in the car. After a while Winnie could feel his warm hand gently hold hers. She didn't bother trying to take it back from him. His grip was too tight to fight it off.

"I apologize, Winnie. I'm used to having my way with a beautiful woman shortly after meeting her." He looked at her intently, making Winnie shiver inside. "I guess I'll just have to work harder with you," he said darkly.

Winnie took a deep breath at his words. God, why is does he have to be so damn gorgeous? Deep down, she really did want him to take her on his desk. She always wanted to try having office sex, but still. He killed people. And she didn't want to have to get involved in his life of crime.

Just then, she thought of something and smiled. "You'll have to work pretty damn hard for the next couple of days seeing how you can't sleep on the bed with me." Reaver groaned in annoyance. Then she heard him chuckle. Winnie looked up, surprised. "What's so funny?" she asked suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all." Reaver lied. He smiled at the ways he was going to get back at her. If it's one thing he knew about women, it was what made them tick. _Sleep alone for now, if you wish to, sweet pixie. _Reaver thought. _But I'll have you, later. I swear it._

**Author's Note: Uh oh. What's he scheming? Get ready to laugh your asses off!**


	7. Chapter 7

Perfect Aim

Winnie finally managed to be back in Reaver's room. Alone this time. She stretched out her arms in relaxation and stood on a spot on the floor where she was sure there would be enough room. _Alright,_ Winnie thought. _Let's do this!_

Winnie wondered what she was supposed to do. _Think _of a tornado and just _hope_ one shows up? Worth a shot. She closed her eyes and began to visualize. Tornado. Tornado. Tornado.

Tornadoooooo.

Tor-NA-do.

AARGH!

Winnie cursed in frustration. Then Winnie started make a bunch of wild arm gestures. "Come on!" Winnie whispered with her teeth.

She spun around in circles while jumping up and down. "Come on, come on, come on!"

Winnie collapsed on the ground when she couldn't move anymore. Why isn't anything happening? She decided she had enough of self training and got dressed in last night's night gown. She leapt to the bed and started to fall asleep. She smile before sleep took over. No way that Reaver's too big of a pussy to back down on a deal.

* * *

"REAVER!" Winnie yelled in anger.

Reaver entered the room with a smug smile on his face. Winnie had just taken a bath and was wrapped in a red towel. "You called, madam?"

"WHERE THE HELL DID YOU PUT ALL THE CLOTHES?!" All of the drawers were empty as well as the closet.

Reaver chuckled. "I'm afraid that none of them suit you well. I had a servant go fetch you some new one. You might want to wear those other clothes you had when we met."

Winnie glared at him. "You took them, remember?!"

"Reaver pretended to look innocent. "Oh my, I remember now. Pity. I guess you'll have to come to work with me in that towel." Winnie retorted with a "Hell no! I'm not going anywhere unless _some_ piece of clothing is on me."

Reaver closed his eyes and shook his head. "Tut, tut. Such a fussy little hussy. Alright, wait here." He left the room for a minute and groaned. This man was going to be the death of her, gun to the head or not. He soon came back with a long, khaki colored coat that reached down to the knees. "Will this do? Or does her majesty wish to come in the nude?" Winnie snatched the coat from him. "Out," she demanded.

"As you wish. Just me in the dining room for breakfast," Reaver said amusingly and he left.

Winnie quickly shut the door and locked it tight. Then, she went over to the mirror and dropped the towel to her feet. Hastily, she slipped on the coat and examined herself in the mirror. Winnie chuckled, "Ew." Her hair was all over the place and her make-up that she applied on herself just two days ago was smeared and flaky. Her eyes were puffy and pink from sleep. And her teeth were in a desperate need for a brushing.

She muttered to herself as she walked toward the door, "I wonder if there's anything I can use in his bathroom." For a guy, not much would help. But at least she'd have a way of getting cleaned. She slowly unlocked and opened the door and crept out of the bedroom. _By God, this house is huge. How the hell am I supposed to find a bathroom in this place? _Winnie wandered around the house for awhile, looking in many rooms to find it. She once walked in on three servants going wild on each other. She squealed and slammed the door before they could notice.

"Hello, miss. Is there something I can help you with?" Winnie looked up to see a little boy about fourteen years of age. He had shaggy chestnut hair and soft blue eyes. His timid voice added to his adorable-like nature.

"Um, yes, actually there is. Where's a bathroom around here?"

The boy smiled shyly. "Just follow me, ma'am. This way." He led her to a room on the first floor near the dining room. "Here it is. May I ask what your name is?" Winnie liked this polite little boy. He was as cute as a freaking British button. "I'm Winnie Samuels. And you are?"

"Tim Edberry, Miss Samuels. Just so you know, Master Reaver's expecting you soon in the –" But Tim got cut off.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Just tell him I'll be down there in twenty."

Tim nodded and headed toward the dining room. Winnie went in the bathroom and shut the door behind her. It was a small half-bathroom with dark mahogany walls and black hand rags. To her relief, she found a toothbrush, a hairbrush, and toothpaste on the counter by the sink. She searched through the drawers for other necessities she might need. She was surprised to find make-up filled in one of them. _What is a jackass of a man like him doing with make-up?_

Not wanting to know, Winnie brushed her hair and teeth, then applied the make-up to her slightly tan skin. Despite how good the foundation was, it could not hide her freckles well. She applied a little mascara, eye liner, and lip gloss. She didn't want to go overboard with the trillions of eye shadow colors and various shades of red lipstick.

When she was finished, Winnie headed for the breakfast room where Reaver was already seated at circular table. He saw her at his door frame and smiled. "Come in." Winnie made her way into the room and sat down on a chair across from him. She then began to drink the coffee that came with the eggs and toast. She decided to not say anything to him after the clothing raid he had taken part of. The damn coat barely went over her knees and she had on no underwear. It was really mortifying.

"I trust you found your way to the water closet with no trouble?" he asked.

Winnie shook her head and continued eating. She felt Reaver's eyes darting at her and she shifted in her seat uncomfortably, wondering what he was thinking. He was probably undressing her with his eyes. The same thing that Randy would do. She gripped her coffee mug tightly.

"Your eyes are rather red. Did you even sleep just _one_ wink? You know, even pixies need their rest, regardless of how beautiful they are." Reaver stated.

Winnie continued her silent treatment and tried her hardest to ignore him. Reaver sighed and continued eating. She was going to be one of those girls that were going to be harder to bed. He could tell. No matter. He always got what he desired and her exquisitely curvy body was no exception.


End file.
